Something Different
by ellercops
Summary: Set in Goblet of Fire onwards... Fred notices something about Hermione he hadn't before. J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter, and whatever is recognisable from either the books or the films.
1. Something Different

Fred rolled over as the morning light crudely hit his eyes. Groaning, he rubbed his eyes attempting to wake himself up. He could hear George grumbling about the light as well, and he made an equally irritable noise in agreement.

He rolled out of bed and sat on the edge of it rubbing his eyes again and stretching his arms up high above him. Somewhere outside their door and below their room he could hear his mother screaming like the ghoul in the attic for them to get up because if not they "would be late to pick up Harry! If you don't get out of bed in the next five seconds I'm going to come up there, and later you'll have to degnome the garden!"

That leaving comment had both Fred and George leaping out of bed at breakneck speed, and, pulling on a grey tee shirt, Fred through open the door to see Ron basically falling down the stairs he was running so quickly.

As the three boys collapsed into their seats around the table, their mother walked briskly around them, dumping mountains of scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages on their plates. Ginny, who was sitting across from Charlie at the table already – Bill was still in bed – looked up quizzically at Ron asking him if he knew when Hermione was going to arrive.

"Later this afternoon. When we're picking up Harry."

George looked at Fred and winked, then smirked when Fred rolled his eyes. No doubt that George was referencing the plan they had formed for their little expedition to Privet Drive, but when Fred had risen in his seat a little upon hearing of Ron's answer, all he had been thinking of was how at least when Harry and Hermione arrived he would be able to have a decent conversation with someone who wasn't Fred, his other older brothers, or Ron, the speckled git.

"We didn't give it to him because he was a Muggle!"

Dad looked at me fiercely, as if daring me to say another word to annoy her.

"No, we gave it to him because he's a great bullying git," George demanded indignantly. "Isn't he, Harry?"

Harry earnestly agreed, attempting to help the twins escape from the unusually formidable Mr. Weasley. "That's not the point! You wait until I tell your mother -"

"Tell me what?"

Fred put his heads in his hands. All hope was lost now.

"Tell me _what_, Arthur?"

Both Fred and George turned in sync with their father, who was eyeing Mrs. Weasley nervously, waiting for all hell to break loose. Suddenly Ginny and Hermione appeared in the doorway, coming into their view.

Hermione smiled at the scene, her grin lighting up her face. He could see that her brown hair was just as bushy as always, and that she had grown a bit. But mostly everything was the same. Except for those little things. Had her eyes always been that warm chocolate brown? Had her nose always been so dainty and attractively small? Fred stopped thinking momentarily, and dumbfounded, stared at the girl who although had not changed, seemed so different.

He was snapped back into reality when she spoke: "Why don't you show Harry where he's sleeping, Ron?"

"He knows where he's sleeping. In my room, he slept there last -"

"We can _all _go," Hermione pointed out. Merlin, sometimes Ron was an oblivious troll.

He and George made to follow the quartet, but stood rooted to the spot as their fire-breathing mother from hell commanded them to stay in the kitchen. Fred reluctantly watched the foursome leave, his eyes paying specific attention to the sway of Hermione's hips as she ascended the stairs.

Shaking his head, Fred hesitantly and anxiously turned to face his mother, who was now fuming at the ears. This would turn out to be an interesting year.


	2. Chances

Something was wrong with Fred. It wasn't that he was physically sick, or emotionally troubled. He just couldn't concentrate.

Actually, he could concentrate, just not on anything except for Hermione. Her sweet, bow-shaped, pink lips; her warm chocolate eyes (how could he not have noticed those little golden flecks among those beautiful brown orbs?); her bushy hair no longer seemed untamed, but thick and lush. He swallowed dryly as she wrapped her mouth around her fork, blissfully ignorant to how sexy she looked as her supple and soft lips slid off of the utensil, with what to him sounded like a completely sexual and delectable plop. More than once he had had to look away as her eyes met his. Turning his attention to Charlie and George, engaging in their conversation about the upcoming Quidditch Cup.

As he lay in bed later that night he couldn't stop thinking about her. He repeatedly replayed his memory of her eating at dinner. Her lovely mouth closing around the food on her fork, not to mention that tantalizing sound she made when she pulled her mouth from the fork. Just the very thought of it made his throat dry.

It didn't help that he and George were sharing a room with Ron, Harry and _her_. Turning his head slowly to the right he could see her outline in the darkness. Her recently sizable chest rose and fell slowly as she breathed. Closing his eyes, with his face still turned in her direction, he fell asleep to the thought of her curved chest rising and falling, and the memory of that plop resounding in his mind.

Early the next morning as Fred and George rolled into the kitchen for some breakfast before the family had to leave for the Cup Fred saw Hermione and Ginny drowsily drowning their toast with some orange juice. He watched as Hermione licked the crumbs off of her lips, and his cock jumped a little in his pants. Jumping a little himself he quickly turned away from the sight and made to walk out of the door alongside George.

"George!" said his mum sharply. The two jumped from shock, and Ron's head shot up from its resting place on the table.

"_Shit,_" muttered George under his breath. "What?" he replied a obviously fake tone of innocence.

"What is that in your pocket?"

George looked down at his rounded pocket, alarmed. "Nothing!"

"Don't you lie to me!" snarled Mrs. Weasley as she pointed her wand at his pocket. "_Accio!"_

Fred ducked as several small, brightly coloured objects zoomed out of George's pocket and zoomed passed George's hand and over Fred's head into their mothers hand.

Soon multiple of the hidden toffees zoomed out from unlikely places, including the lining of George's jacket, the turn-ups of Fred's jeans and the waist-band of his boxers. At seeing this, Hermione looked away and blushed before looking up at Fred, attempting to shake off her flush as something unnoticed. But he noticed. And he liked it. Or at least he liked what he thought it might mean.

"Fred! Wait up!"

Fred, who had been walking sulkily away from the Burrow, in the direction of the Portkey that would take the group to the forest where the Cup would be held, turned around at the sound of his name. When he saw Hermione running towards him his heart leapt in his chest. As she arrived next to him she sounded a bit out of breath. Openly laughing at her disheveled appearance he stopped to let her catch her breath.

They walked along next to each other for the next half an hour until they reached the portkey, talking about a range of topics. Fred was glad to be so close to her, and relished the time spent. From his angle above her he could see the swell of her breast clearly, and had to repeatedly avert his gaze, for fear of how she might respond, although he desperately wanted to know what she was thinking.

It wasn't long before they reached the portkey, where two people were waiting already – Amos Diggory, and his son Cedric. There were the awkward introductions, and Fred was completely oblivious to anything except for the fact that Hermione was standing next to him, being very unintentionally distracting. That was until Amos brought up the loss of a certain Quidditch game last year, in which Harry had fallen off his broom while Cedric had continued to catch the snitch, without bothering to help Harry, the slimy troll. Fred and George both scowled at the pair.

Finally it was time to go. The group of nine crowded around the old boot Amos Diggory was holding, and as soon as Fred had grabbed the boot he felt as though he had been dragged forward, as his feet left the ground. He was spinning and twirling haphazardly in the air, until suddenly time slowed, and Fred slammed into the ground with an _oomph, _landing awkwardly on top of Hermione.

"Are you okay?" he asked her with concern. She was flushed and looked a bit shocked at their sudden crash into the earth.

"I'm fine…" she said breathlessly, staring up with wide brown eyes into his deep blue ones. It was then that they both seemed to notice that they were entangled into each other, and that their faces were very close. So close that if Fred moved just a little bit forward, he was sure that their lips would meet.

He noticed that her eyes were darting between his and his lips. When their eyes met he absentmindedly licked his lips, causing her to blush a pretty shade of pink. Just a little closer…

All of a sudden he heard a voice: "Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill."

He looked back to where Hermione's lips had been a second beforehand, but they were gone. He looked up. There she was, standing up, talking to Harry and Ron.

_Damn._


	3. Hard Decisions

As she, Ron and Harry walked away from Seamus, the boys talked animatedly about the Bulgarian team, each making guesses about what decorations their supporters would be hanging from their tents. Personally Hermione, not being a fan of Quidditch, or flying itself for that matter, couldn't care less. In fact she couldn't care less about anything, except for what had happened between her and Fred.

She kept hitting the rewind button in her memory, reliving again the moment. In her mind she continuously looked up at Fred, his winded face, his blue eyes. She remembered feeling his flush, warm chest against hers, feeling her face going red from the memory. He had looked as though he was about to kiss her, and what was even more surprising to her was that she would have let him.

She shook her head in silent dismissal. Since when was she the kind of girl who would have her first kiss pressed against a grass, having just hit the ground after having queasily teleported for the first time; with someone like Fred Weasley of all sorts! Not that she had anything against Fred: despite all of his immature pranks that put so many in danger, he was all in all a nice guy, who'd never went out of his way to hurt anyone, at least someone not from Slytherin. And she had to admit; some of his pranks were funny, even if they were a little childish. I mean seriously, blowing off a toilet lid? Millicent Bulstrode's face had been priceless, and she'd always had a secret vendetta against her since the Polyjuice potion incident.

But she wasn't even in a relationship with him! Unless you counted friendship that is.

Anyway, Fred couldn't possibly be interested in her. She was just a bushy-haired, big toothed, know-it-all teacher's pet who'd never had a date or been kissed. She told herself she didn't care what he thought of her anyway, but who was she kidding. Fred was nice, funny (if a bit outlandish) and surprisingly smart, considering all of the complex experiments he and George undertook to create all of their inventions. She giggled softly, remembering the toffees Molly had snatched from the two that morning. She wondered what they were for.

She sighed. Fred, and likewise George, were popular at Hogwarts, especially with the girls. They basically flocked to them like fireflies to a light. Compared to the girls who threw themselves at Fred, she was nothing. Resigning herself to a life of watching as Fred flirted with those so much luckier than her, she decided: if she couldn't control or ignore her feelings, she would just have to avoid Fred; she wondered if this would even be a better life than watching Fred flirt with people. Surely friendship was better than constant heartbreak?

She shook her head again, reemerging herself into Ron and Harry's fervent appraisal of 'Krum'. This was just something she had to do.


End file.
